The Mockingbirds Sang
by hilarity
Summary: COMPLETE. Just a couple events after the end of the story.


****

The Mockingbirds Sang - Chapter "32"

When I woke, the mockingbirds sang. I stared fixedly at their small frames silhouetted against the rising sun. It couldn't have been more than six, but sleep avoided me that night. Downstairs I heart Cal arrive. She slammed the screen door.

I stood up and my petite, but worn from the numerous outings and adventures, bare feet were cold on hardwood floor. It sent a shiver up my spine. I sat back down on my bed as if I had just hit a wall and it had ricocheted me back off. I rubbed my nose, and looked about. Sleep, which had been so adamant to avoid me, had now reappeared. I rubbed my eyes forcefully, but then I remembered what Little Chuck Little had said about rubbing eyes too hard; "they'd get pushed back into your head." He swore by this rule, and I had never seem him rub his eyes once.

I quickly threw my hands to my lap, and stood up. My feet were cold, but I quickly scampered to Jem's door, and opened it.

"Hey Atticus!" I half-shouted.

"Hush Scout. What are you doing up?" Atticus seemed to have forgotten time itself.

"Tain't but six, Atticus. I'm not tired anymore." I climbed into his lap and gazed at my poor brother. He was sound asleep, his arm wrapped, but bruises appeared around his shoulder.

"Jem waked up yet?" I said, burying my head into Atticus's shoulder. Sleep was pounding in my eyes. I refused to rub them.

"No, Scout. He'll be asleep for some time, yet." He stroked my tangled brown hair with one hand, and balanced the paper with the other.

"Is Jem dead, yet?" I pulled my head away from the warmth of his sweater, and stared intently at his pale face. Stubble was covering his chin and cheek bones.

He laughed. "No, Scout, Jem's not dead. Didn't Dr. Reynolds tell you last night?"

"Yes, but, Atticus?" I asked. "S'Jem gonna be able to play football? When's his arm gonna heal? Is he ever gonna wake up?" I couldn't stop. The fear of rubbing my tired and itching eyes had now subsided, and rubbed them with the fury of Bob Ewell being chased by a mad dog - or any dog.

Atticus laughed again. "Slow down, Scout. Let's take them one at a time. Jem will be able to play football again if his arm heals properly, which should take some time, so I expect no horseplay out of the two of you for a time. Jem should wake up today, but when he does, there'll be no mentioning Mr. Arthur Radley or any of the events of last night? Understood?"

I turned myself on Atticus's lap, and stared blankly at Jem's still figure. "Yessir, Atticus."

----------

I sat with Atticus at the kitchen table. My feet still weren't touching the floor, and this morning, I was particularly concerned. I stretched as hard as a could, but nothing happened.

"What are you doing, Scout?" Atticus said from behind his paper.

"Nuttin' sir." I said, fidgeting back into my seat.

I was tired of sitting, and I wanted desperately to go to Miss Maudie's house and away from here. Placid white walls surrounded me everywhere except my room, a pale yellow. I was tired.

"Atticus, can I go over to Miss Maudie? Please." I asked, swinging my legs furiously under the table.

"Are you going to go anywhere else?" He lowed the paper, and raised his left eyebrow.

I looked down at my half-eaten breakfast.

"Nome, sir." I sighed, and ran out the back door.

"Keep within calling distance, Scout! I'll be with Jem, and won't be able to watch you -" I was gone and over at Miss Maudie's in an lightning flash. I sat down dismally on the porch, and peered at the rows of Azaleas that grew peacefully along the walk.

"Why, if it isn't Miss Jean Louise." Miss Maudie said, opening the door. She was holding two full glass of lemonade. It was warm for Autumn.

"Hi, Miss Maudie."

"Aren't you going to be with Atticus? I'm sure he needs you." She said, handing me the glass. I sat on the porch swing. Seemed as though everyone in Maycomb, and surrounding Maycomb County, and even Meridian (I'd have to ask Dill first) had porch swings. The necessity of a warm climate.

"Nome." I said, sipping on my icy cold drink. I was feeling rather dismal, but if I stretched my legs enough, I could touch the porch.

Miss Maudie sat next to me, watching my endeavor.

"What are you doing, Jean Louise?" She asked, smirking as she sipped the refreshment.

"Growin'. Jem says I gotta grow faster on accounta I cain't run, an' I cain't since the floor's too far away, an' so I've been trying to stretch like Miss Gates says we oughta to keep - to keep - to keep limmer." It was all in one breath, and all the while, I was hanging awkwardly off the swing, holding dearly onto my glass.

"Limber." Was all Miss Maudie said.

"Miss Maudie?" I asked, after a moment of contemplating in silence.

"Mm?" She replied.

"Is Jem dead? 'S gonna be the same as before?" I peered hopefully at Miss Maudie. It was my one chance to find out about the events of the previous night.

Miss Maudie patted my on my head. She sighed. Then, then, she stood up, taking my hand, and led me across the street. We went in together, back to my house. I didn't understand what she was doing, but then it became obvious. I said something bad. Cowering in fear as we walked past Aunt Alexandra (sleeping heavily in her room), I tried to avoid going to Atticus.

"What'd I do, Miss Maudie?"

"Nothing, my dear. I just want you to come have a look at your brother, and you tell me if he's dead."

I was clutching Miss Maudie's hand and the glass of lemonade.

"'S awake, Atticus?" I asked, peeking into the doorway.

"See for yourself." Miss Maudie let go of my hand, and I ran into Jem's room.

Atticus was sitting closer to Jem, now, and Jem was awake, groggy, but awake. I smiled and screamed in elation.

"JEM! JEM! JEM!" I ran to his bed, hugging him violently. He shouted out in agony, and Atticus grabbed my overalls, pulling me back.

"I told you, Jean Louise, not to disturb your brother." Atticus's voice was stern. Miss Maudie was laughing in the doorway, and Cal was behind her, also laughing, but shaking her head as though I had done something shamefully wrong.

I climbed onto Atticus's lap, but there was no room between the bedside, and the chair, and I fell off, nearly hitting my head.

Atticus stifled a laugh, and in a playfully stern voice, he told me to be more careful.

"Sorry, sir." I said, and walked to the door between Jem's room and my own. My head was down, and I felt as though I had done everything wrong.

I slammed my door, partially on accident, and lay face down on my bed. I sobbed. I hadn't cried since the events took place, and I guess now the full magnitude of what happened, hit me. Tears flooded freely from my eyes. I heard talking, and immediately hid under my bed. I had probably just killed Jem by slamming my door.

Heavy footsteps vibrated the floorboards. Atticus! I scared myself, and began to cry again. Jem was right. I _was_ turning more into a girl every day. It wasn't fair.

My door opened, and I saw Atticus's shoes and pant hem standing there. He advanced to my bed. I began to cry again. I backed up alongside the wall, determined to be hidden. My bed springs squeaked heavily as he sat down.

"Where could Scout be?" I almost laughed. He didn't know.

"If only she knew that she didn't hurt Jem, and that we'd like her to join us."

A sob escaped me, uninvited. Atticus got off my bed, and kneeled on the floor, peering at me. I had my knees up to my chin, and my face was buried in them.

"Scout? What's wrong, darling?" He had never called me that a day in his life, or mine. I knew he was serious.

Carefully, I crawled out from under my bed. Atticus stood up as I was doing so, and by the time I was out, he was standing up. I ran to him, burying my head in his stomach. He lifted me up, carefully, and I then pressed my head against his neck and shoulders. How I loved my Atticus.

"Jem's hurt bad, Atticus, cuz ah me, ain't it, Atticus?" I said, lifting my head to meet Atticus's face.

"Of course not. You can go talk to him. He'll tell you. I'm sorry if I was too hard, Scout. I sometimes forget you were involved…." his voiced trailed off. I didn't know it then, but he was thinking of the knife cuts in my ham costume, the fact I was so vulnerable trapped inside the chicken wire. A solitary tear fell from his eyes. I had never seen Atticus cry a day in his life, or mine.

I gave him a kiss on his cheek, and hugged him. How much I needed him. I never wanted to lose my Atticus.

----------

Things moved slowly the next three weeks, like molasses being poured on a cold winter's day. Winter was nearly here, and the temperature had fallen drastically. Miss Maudie barely had time to cover her azaleas before the first frost hit. It had dreadfully quiet. School was repetitive; Current Events, math, some writing and reading, then recess, more writing, and then Social Studies, quiet time, and then home.

It was as if the events of that warm October night hadn't even happened. Jem was worried he wouldn't be able to play football. He wasn't the same somehow. Still engulfed in his football magazines, but yet, he wasn't there. He wasn't the Jem Finch that I'd known for my whole life.

Every night he would sit on his window sill and stare out at the moon, like he was trying to burn a hole through it, and see the other side. His knees where drawn up to his chin, and his arms were wrapped tightly across them. He would sometimes draw pictures on the frosty windows, but most of the time, he just stared.

Atticus said it was because of the shock of the past year. I thought he was switched at birth; the fairies took him. Angie Woods (she was from Chicago, so we worshipped her) told me about Changelings and about fairies. She told me that Changelings were very different. They were normal for a while, then they began to miss their fairy homes, and would stare at the moon (Angie told me they lived on the moon, I didn't believe her). She told me they'd be evil, and the only way to get rid of them and get the real person back, was to throw them in the fire place and they'd run up the chimney.

I tried unsuccessfully to get Jem to sit too close to the fireplace numerous times. I was convinced that he was a fairy person, and I wanted the old Jem back. I made up my own methods of revealing his true identity, but he just threw his magazine at me. Once, he pushed me down the front steps. I landed on the sidewalk, and my arms were scraped up. Jem just slammed the door and I was forced to play outside until Atticus returned home, two hours later. Cal never knew I was even gone. She was cooking and cleaning the house for one of Aunt Alexandra's parties.

Aunt Alexandra, I convinced myself, was also a fairy, as she never bothered me to be a lady again. Well, not as much as she used to. I got to wear my overalls, and sometimes I didn't wash my hands before dinner. Aunt Alexandra either didn't notice, or didn't care. Either way, I was happy.

One evening, I was sitting alone in my room. Atticus was due home any minute. The wind was howling up a storm outside, and it rattled my windows. I was deathly afraid of being carried off by a witch (Angie said witches like windy nights), and I wanted some company. Cal was cooking dinner, and I didn't want to bother her. Aunt Alexandra was out at a party, but I wouldn't have wanted her company anyway.

I decided Jem would do (normally he and I were already playing), and I got up and walked to the door between our rooms.

I knocked three times, then five times, then I waited.

"Jem?" I asked, barely above a whisper. I knocked again, then I called louder. "JEM?!"

"Quit your yellin' child! Why, I dare say you're getting more and more bull-headed…" Calpurnia called from the kitchen.

I quickly knocked again. When no one answered my last call, I opened the door slowly.

Sure enough, Jem was sitting on the sill staring at the moon. He didn't even notice I had entered. I was rather glad, as I didn't know what he'd do if he saw me.

"Jem? Want to play a game? Jem? I'm awful bored, Jem." I said, hoping the last statement would stir any compassion he had in him.

He turned his head slowly to meet my worried gaze. His eyebrows met ominously together in a scowl, and he got up. In a flash I felt something hit my eye. It stung horribly. My first thought was that it was pushed into my head, but a quick assessment proved otherwise. My eye stung horribly, and blood trickled from my eye brow.

I started to cry.

"Shut up, Scout!" Jem hissed.

He ran over to me, grabbed my overalls, and shook me violently. My head hit the wall numerous times, and I only cried harder.

Then Jem slapped me.

"Be a lady!" He shouted. Mom was a lady, but I'm not a lady. I'm a disgrace.

"I hate you, Scout! I just hate you so much!" He threw me away, and my head hit the side table. With a resounding crack, my forehead made contact with the corner of the table.

The front door slammed; Atticus was home!

I screamed. I screamed louder than I had ever screamed in my life. My eye was bleeding still. I turned to look at Jem. I felt my head shake with the impact.

Jem's face had the look of total fear. His eyes were bugged out of his head, and his mouth was turned down. I didn't know if it was for me, or for his life as Atticus walked up the stairs, well, ran up the stairs.

I screamed again, and again. I cried out for Atticus. What was wrong with Jem? What? I was scared.

The door flung open and Atticus ran inside. He had the look of pure paternal worry plastered across his aging face. He took one long look at me, then a sharp quick look at Jem, who was still frozen with the look of worry and fear on him.

"Oh my God!" Atticus said under his breath. He ran over to me, picked me up carefully, supported my head. He held me against him. I was shivering from fear and my injuries. I was so frightened, I couldn't talk, but the tears running steadily down my face showed my pain.

"Jeremy Atticus Finch!" Atticus growled. "I'll be back." He took me away to my room, and immediately ran downstairs to get Cal, who called Dr. Reynolds.

Atticus returned. He lifted me up, and just as he had the night of the attack, he dressed me in my pajamas, carefully. Cal came with a wet cloth, and dabbed my eye. I saw Jem was watching through the doorway, which was open only an inch, enough for one eye to peer in, and watch over his baby sister. I thought it was grand of him to watch over me, but I was still frightened of him.

"What happened, Scout?" Atticus said, nearly in a whisper.

"Jem hit me with a," I paused, it hurt to think. "a book. Then he shook me and threw me down."

"Why did he do that?" He stroked my cheek, and wiped the tears away.

"Cuz I went inta his room. But I knocked, Atticus," I winced. "I knocked, I swear I did. No one answered. I promise, Atticus. I didn't do nuttin' to hurt him, honest." I said, trying so hard not to get myself in trouble.

"Why is Jem like that?" I asked. I had no know.

"Is he a fairy?"

The bewilderment on Atticus' face told me he wasn't, and then a small smile broke the look of worry.

"No, Scout. He's not. He's just having some trouble lately. He'll be back to normal. I'll talk to him."

"Don't kill him, Atticus! Please?" I asked, with a look of alarm in my eye (my right eye was nearly swollen shut at the time).

Atticus shot a quick but noticeable glance at Jem, who was peering cautiously in my room. Then Atticus looked back at me, thought a minute, then smiled.

"I suppose I could let him live, if he promises never to do what he has done again. Ever!" The comment was directed more at Jem than me, for I was half asleep.

Dr. Reynolds came then, but I was too sleepy to notice.

----------

The next morning I awoke to see Jem sitting by my bed. When he saw my eyes flutter open, he ran to my and gave me a hug.

"I love you Scout! I really love you! I didn't mean it! I didn't mean it!" I felt salty tears flow down his cheeks, and drip onto my neck.

I didn't know what to say. Blood was rushing through my head, and my eye was swollen. I looked stunned at my brother's messed up hair, and I felt compelled to acknowledge him, but I didn't. I held my tongue and looked about the room. My eyes fell on Atticus leaning against the doorway with a mug in his hand, and the paper rolled up under his other arm.

"Morning, Scout. How is your eye, my dear?" He came over to me. I smiled. Jem let go of me and sat back down in the chair. He smiled.

"Hungry?" Atticus asked me.

My stomach was rumbling. I thought of oat meal, and it quickly stopped.

"Nome, sir." I said, and looked out of the window. A light blanket of frost covered the ground. It looked like snow and reminded me of the winter before.

"You sure, Scout?" Atticus sat down at the foot of my bed. "Cal made cracklin' bread." He smiled as I felt my eyes light up.

I tried to stand, but fell back. Jem got up and grabbed my arm. "Hold onto me, Scout. I'll help you downstairs."

I thought it was mighty kind of him, and I felt like a real Southern lady being escorted down the lane. I shook the thought out of my mind. Ladies, indeed. I wasn't going to be one, maybe.

"Jem?" I looked over at my brother.

"Home come…" I bit my tongue and kept quiet, as we walked down to the kitchen to eat.

I felt Atticus' hand on my shoulder. I was still in my pajamas, and I felt sleepy. It was a crisp morning out. Cold as anything, but not a cloud hung in the sky. I saw Miss Maudie outside, furiously covering her azaleas from any surprises.

I sat down, and Jem sat next to me. Cal came out with the cracklin' bread. My eyes devoured it as best as they could. I wanted to take it all in. I watched Atticus eat it then. Slowly he took the bites, read the paper, sipped some coffee, ate another bite. I wondered if it was better with coffee and small bites.

"Can I have some coffee, please, sir?" I wondered if it was like cocoa.

Atticus smiled as we finished reading the article in the paper, folded it, and then smiled again, this time, at me.

"Sure." He said.

"Cal? Can we get another mug and some coffee in here?"

"Sure, Mister Finch. I'll be right in."

"But, Atticus!" Jem protested. "I want some too!"

"Are you sure, Jeremy?" Atticus said, reopening his paper and adjusting his glasses.

"Yessum! I sure am!" Jem said, sitting forward in his seat, nearly jumping out for joy.

"Alright. Cal? We'll need two mugs instead."

"Yessir, Mister Finch." She came in, carrying with her two mugs in one hand, and the pot in the other.

Atticus nodded in my direction, and she set the mug down, then she set one in front of Jem. She filled both cups a quarter full, then dropped in a bit of sugar.

I was so excited, I picked the mug up and sipped. It was hot! I spit it back into the mug. It was repulsive. I wiped my mouth, and glared at Atticus, who was smiling as he read the paper.

Jem, meanwhile, was sipping away happy. I wondered how he could stomach such a disaster.

"Jem! You're crazy! It'll kill ya!" I said, staring at him in awe and disgust.

"Nah, you're just a little girl. You don't know nuttin' about grown ups, right Atticus?"

Atticus said nothing. Instead, he ate the last bit of the cracklin' bread, and folded the paper.

"Eat your breakfast, Scout."

The cracklin' bread! Why, I'd almost forgot about it with the excitement of coffee.

I ate it all in two bites, and wondered how Atticus could stand to eat it so slow.

After breakfast ended, I had nothing to do. Not that I wanted to run around. I felt extremely tired, and nearly fell asleep in the sitting room.

Atticus came over and sat in his chair. I went over to him and sat in his lap. I tucked my legs up and rested my head on his shoulder. I looked at my hands. They were red and cold. Atticus wrapped his arms around me, and held me close to him. I heard his heart beating through his sweater, and I listened to the rhythm. It made me sleepy, but I didn't want to sleep. I tried fighting slumber as long as I could, but it arrived any way, and Atticus held me tight, as if he never wanted to let me go.

Jem came in when I woke up. I was still in Atticus' lap, but now Atticus was asleep as well. I climbed carefully down and sat by Jem, whose arm was still in the sling.

"You're awake, eh?" Atticus said, yawning and stretching his arms.

"How is my beloved niece this fine afternoon?" Aunt Alexandra walked in from the dining room where she was sewing peacefully.

"Let me have a look at this eye." She knelt down and peered at my swollen right eye.

"Tsk tsk. This shan't do for a la -" She stopped, stared at Atticus. He sighed, shook his head, and got up slowly.

"Ah well. Things like this happen." She said under her breath. "Must make the best of things like this."

She got up, and sat back into the chair Atticus had just left, sighing.

Standing up, I walked carefully to the kitchen and opened the swinging door. Cal was stirring a pot of stew. The smells were intoxicating. Thick with potatoes and beef. My mouth watered though I had just eaten breakfast.

"Yes Scout?" Cal asked me. She hadn't turned around, but she knew I was there.

"Nuttin' Cal. I just want some company." I said, and with an over exaggerated sigh of boredom, I sat down on a chair and began to trace my index finger along the corner of the counter.

"You bored, child?" Cal asked, looking over at me. She put the wooden spoon on the counter, and wiped her worn and calloused hands on her apron.

"Awful bored, Cal." I said, resting my aching head on my arms.

"Can't I go outside?" I said, looking to the backdoor.

"No child! You're father told you to stay in. Tain't fair to let you go rompin' wild while your bother stays in. You got a mighty bad bruisin' too, Scout." She said, and gave my left arm a loving squeeze.

"Now, why don't you help me stir this stew?" She smiled, and I hopped down from my perch.

As I helped Cal stir the thick stew, my mind roamed. Christmas was coming up, and Aunt Alexandra was already with us. I panicked.

"Cal! Whadda we gonna do for Christmas now that Auntie's here?" I looked up at Cal, who was busy chopping carrots.

"Well, land's sakes, I don't know. I s'pose that your family will come here instead, or perhaps you'll all go up to the Landin' anyway." She didn't take her eyes off of the food. "Why don't you go talk to Atticus about it?"

"Will you manage without me?"

"I'll try my best." Cal smiled, and took over my position as the official stirrer.

"Atticus!" I looked around the sitting room. "Atticus?" No one was there.

"Jem? Auntie?" I walked upstairs.

After a thorough search of the house and backyard, I ventured to the car house. It was deathly cold, and my jacket was in my room. I stepped quietly to the door, not wanting Cal to hear me outside. She'd say I'd catch my death of cold. I opened the squeaky wooden door, and looked in. The car was gone!

"Cal!" I screamed. "Caa-aal!" I shouted, nearly slipping on a small patch of black ice.

"What on earth? Scout?! Scout! Are you alright?" I ran to the back door, Cal let me in.

"The car's gone, Cal! Jem and Auntie's gone too! Where'd they go? Why'd they leave me?" My cheeks were flushed from the cold, and my nose hurt.

"Calm down, child. Now what on earth were you doin' outside after I told you not to?" Cal frowned.

"Atticus's gone, and I wanted to find 'em an' they weren't anywhere, so I checked the car house, and they're gone!"

I guess my look of child worry overcame Cal, and she smiled at me, and we sat down at the kitchen table.

"Well, Jean Louise, I haven't the slightest as to where your father is at, but I can tell you one thing, you'll catch your death o' cold goin' outside with no overcoat. What possessed you, child! My my my." She got up, nearly laughing, and got out the cocoa powder.

"I think that you're in for some hot cocoa, Miss Finch." She shook her head, laughing and smiling up a storm.

Meanwhile, I was quite in a fit of my own. My face was one big angry mess, and I was resting my head in my hands. I had no idea where they could have gone. Many thoughts ran through my mind, but the one that kept coming back was that they left me and went away. I was too much trouble for Atticus to handle. Maybe I made him feel too old. He always told me I was wearing him out. Maybe I wore him out for good and he took Jem with him.

Suddenly, I heard the car engine rumble into the drive. Squealing with delight, I jolted out of my seat, banging my knee on the table, and ran out of the door before Cal even heard me. The second I stepped outside, I crashed on my bottom from a patch of ice, that same one.

"Atticus!" I screamed, and ran into his arms. "Why'd ya leave?" I said, looking at him, alone.

"Where's Jem at? An' Auntie?"

"Inside, with you." He looked puzzled.

"Nuh uh." I said, shaking my head as Atticus put me down.

"They ain't inside. I looked 'round for 'em, too."

"Well Scout, did you check Jem's room?"

"Yessum. Even Auntie's!"

"Scout…You know you are not supposed to go into you Aunt's room, now let's go inside. It's awfully chilly out for you to be without a coat and hat." He held my hand and we walked back inside.

"Ah, there's my Jean Louise!" Cal exclaimed. "I thought I'd have to drink this muhself!" She set the steaming cup on the table, and as she did so, I was reminded of my original mission.

"Atticus?" I turned around to see him sitting in a chair reading his paper.

"Mm?" He didn't overt his eyes from the article.

"Where're we goin' for Christmas this year now that Auntie's here with us?" I sat down next to his chair and rested my head on the arm.

"Well, I was just thinking about that myself, which is why I went into town."

"Why'd ya do that?" I asked, as Jem came downstairs from wherever he had been hiding.

"Where've you been, Jem? I been looking for ya all morning', I have."

He shrugged his shoulders and walked to the stack of old magazines, fumbling through the first half, before discovering what he had wanted. He turned around and sat near Atticus and me.

"Do you want to know why I went into town?" said Atticus. He raised his left eyebrow and peered at me, then Jem.

"Yessum, sir." I said. Jem nodded.

"Well, we got a telegram. It was from you Aunt's husband."

"What a snore." I said. Atticus peered at me, and lowered his eyebrows in disapproval.

"But he is -" I protested. Atticus put his right hand on my head.

"Hush. As I was saying, we received a telegram…"

"Not from my husband, you haven't!" Aunt Alexandra made her presence known.

"Sister, please -" Atticus looked up at his sister.

"Now, Atticus, listen to me. We aren't letting them into this house! Why, if they did, who knows what Stephanie could find to gossip about. And with Francis! Lord, Francis! He'd fight with Jean Louise -"

"Alexandra, why would we reject hospitality? When we have come over to the Landing every year, it would not be right, it would not be right at all."

"Atticus?" I asked.

"What is it, Scout?"

"If Francis comes, I'm going to Meridian and spending Christmas with Dill."

Atticus laughed, smiled at me, then put the telegram down.

"I think I may join you."

----------

When I awoke, a thick blanket of snow was covering the ground. For the second time in my life, I panicked over the weather, and for the second time in my life, Atticus ran in half-shaven to see what was the matter, but for the first time in my life, I wanted to go outside and play in it right away.

"Is it gonna melt again, Atticus?"

"Ask your brother. I have to get to work, and you have to get to school."

I frowned, crossed my arms, and sat grumpily on my bed. I sighed angrily, and slowly went to my dresser, picking out whatever I found.

"Damn." I said.

"Excuse me, Scout?" Atticus peered through the doorway.

"I thought Uncle Jack discussed this with you." He wiped his hands on the towel that was draped over his shoulder.

"Sorry, sir."

That morning, I sat steaming in my temper. I could have melted all the snow just by stepping outside. Luckily, as a deterrent to my mood, Atticus drove Jem and me to our schools. He never drove us to school, so this was a treat.

School passed by with a buzz in the air. It wasn't good nor bad, it was just a buzz. It was now Winter Break, and we wouldn't be back for two solid weeks.

I took my walk home as a chance to play in the snow without Cal scolding me. I decided to confuse Jem, I'd step backwards in my tracks like Cecil Jacobs said the Indians did in the Pioneer days. I made my way through the back alley instead of the sidewalk. It led me passed the Radley place, but I wasn't scared. I half-expected Boo to come out and greet me, but he didn't. The only noise was when a small pile of snow fell from one of the trees, and crashed in the dead collard garden.

I walked a little faster then, not wanting Mr. Nathan Radley to think I was the thief who had been crawling in his collards two years prior, though I knew it was just Jem, Dill and me.

As I made my way to our back door, I carefully wiped my tracks, and stepped on anything that happened to elevate me off of the ground. I managed fairly well, until I fell off and left my full body imprint in the soft snow.

"Damn." I said again. So much for that idea.

I walked inside, covered in snow. Cal rushed over to me with a towel before Aunt Alexandra could beat her to me.

"Don't you be trackin' that snow in here, child! Honestly! You're Aunt'll through a fit if the snow melts on the wood." She made a few noises in her throat to show more disapproval, and I just waited for the snow to be off of me.

When Cal had finished her maternal duties, she returned to polishing my patent leather black Mary Janes that I despised so much.

"Why are ya doin' that, Cal?" I said, putting my book down on the table.

"Because, with Christmas comin' up, we want you lookin' extra nice. Now take of your coat and hat and stay a while." She patted my cold hand, and returned to her work.

I walked upstairs, put my coat up, and sat down in the middle of my floor, waiting for Jem to come home. When he finally did, I ran up to him and asked if we could build a snowman.

Atticus was already home (he told Jem that the roads were icy, but he never informed me on this).

"Jem! Wontchya make a snow man with me! There's enough snow this time, and we won't make a Mr. Avery this time! Please, Jem? You're not to old to make a snow man, are ya Jem?"

"I am, indeed." 

Atticus chuckled from behind his paper.

"You ain't!"

"Yes I am, and it ain't ain't, it's ISN'T." He was suddenly full of himself.

Atticus smiled, and turned the page of the paper.

"But you just said ain't, dummy." I playfully punched him (softly) in his stomach. He pushed me backwards and I hit my funny bone - HARD.

A roar of pain swept through my arm. I howled.

"ATTICUS! I broke my arm! Help!" Tears of pain welled up in my eyes.

Atticus got up, lifted my aching arm, and felt it.

"I think you just hit your funny bone. There'll be no more horseplay out of the two of you, hear me? I don't want either of you picking on each other for the rest of this break, hear me?"

"Yes, sir." We echoed.

"And one more thing." Atticus paused, looking at both of us to make sure we were listening. "Jeremy, there will be NO more of this out of you -"

"But she -" 

"UNDERstand me, Jem?" He lowered his glasses, and faced his good eye at Jem.

"Yes, sir." Jem mumbled.

"I know you're nearly thirteen, but your sister is only eight -"

"And an-a-half!" I pointed out.

"Yes, Scout. Eight-and-a-half, and you needn't be treatin' her like you do. She'll learn about Egypt and "isn't" and about bein' "too old" in time. Now why don't you play outside with your sister, Build a snowman."

"Aw, but Atticus!" Jem broke in.

All Atticus had to do was raise that left eyebrow, and Jem and I silenced.

"Now, run along." He said, sitting back in his chair, shaking his head.

"I swear Cal," Atticus started when he thought we were out of earshot.

"One of these days, when I'm dead and gone, I don't know what they'll do. They're wearing me out, Cal. Wearing me out."

"Oh, Mr. Finch, you know you need them just as much as they need you." She said, setting a sugar basin on the table, and giving a mysterious side-long glance at Atticus.

He smiled and nodded.

"You're right, Cal. Absolutely right." And with that, Atticus did something he'd never done.

He folded his paper, stood, got his hat, coat, galoshes, and some gloves, and walked outside behind us.

"Let's build that perfect snow Mr. Avery - I mean, man." He smiled, and we started.


End file.
